


bloom how you must, wild (until we are free)

by who_needs_words



Series: short fics for A-spec Archives Week 2021 [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: A-spec characters written by an a-spec author, Ace & Aro solidarity, Aromantic Sasha James, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Aspec Archives Week, Bisexual Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, Gen, No beta we die like archival assistants, Pride, Trans Daniel "Danny" Stoker, Yes you read that right, demiromantic Georgie Barker, i made danny trans, it's like a line but it's there and i want you to know that, projecting onto characters? who?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:28:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28707429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/who_needs_words/pseuds/who_needs_words
Summary: Jon often finds Pride to be overwhelming, he still goes. It's his community. Sometimes he just wishes he had someone to share it with.(or: ace/aro solidarity via Jon seeing Sasha at pride )
Relationships: Georgie Barker & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist (past), Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: short fics for A-spec Archives Week 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106123
Comments: 5
Kudos: 61
Collections: Aspec Archives Week





	bloom how you must, wild (until we are free)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the poem "Cento Between the Ending and the End" by Cameron Awkward-Rich 
> 
> This is for the first day of A-spec Archives Week, the prompt for Monday was "wish/pride/story"
> 
> Also: it is still Monday in the timezone I live in. hush.

Jon doesn’t particularly like Pride- there is nothing wrong with Pride. Not by any stretch of the imagination. The idea of a whole month dedicated to people being confident and open about themselves and their identity- it’s exhilarating. But Jon doesn’t like it. He’s a private person, and beyond that the parades are always loud and overwhelming. There are so many people pushing into him from so many directions. Jon is simply not build for parades, Pride or otherwise. 

That doesn’t stop him from going. Whether or not Jon like going- they’re still important to him. There were none in Bournemouth when he was younger. Not that teenage Jon was emotionally open enough to realize his own sexuality, let alone go to Pride.

It wasn’t until he moved to London to attend uni that he started going to Pride. At first it was just to support Georgie. She was so open in her sexuality he couldn’t not support her. Later he went to celebrate himself. The parades where one of only a few days where he could wrap himself in his colors. He always wore his ring, and there was a small pan flag on the strap of his messenger bag. But those weren’t really… out there. They didn’t scream _look at me, look how proud I am to be myself,_ they were tiny signals to those who knew to look for them. 

The parades were different. Jon wasn’t the type to wear a flag, but t-shirts (and one time a skirt) from friends who had hand made them- those Jon took great joy in wearing. What had once been a plain white shirt was now decorated with his colors- vivid purple over the calm of greys, whites and blacks. It yelled to the world (in a way that was very rare for Jon) _look who I am! I am proud of who I am, you can’t take this from me. You can’t take this from us._

It was exhilarating.

In uni he went with Georgie a few friends. Even after they broke up they’d still meet up for the parades. It was their thing. They’d bonded more at parades than they had on most of their dates. The memory of her smile as Georgie wrapped herself in her colors was a bright spot in his mind. Their colors complemented each other. Her own pan arrangement matching his, and the green of her demiromantic flag shining in kinship to his own purple. (Years down the line it would the memory of that smile that moved him to seek her out when he was completely alone). 

But Jon hadn't seen her in years, or any of their group really. Last year he’d been working on a project and lost track of time, completely missing the parade. The year before that he’d ate something that his stomach had very must not agreed with, and the year before that he’d been visiting his grandmother. So on and so forth back to the last time Jon had spent spend Pride with Georgie. But this year, this year would be different he had promised himself. This year he would go. This year he would take Pride in himself. As the weeks to Pride lessened he swore to himself he would go. This year he would once again cry his self love (however small that may be) to the sky above. 

Somehow Jon nearly missed it anyway.

“Oh lord” work had ended nearly 30 minutes ago. All three of his assistant had already left. Or well, Tim might still be here. Jon was fairly sure he’d said something about needing to talk to Rossie before leaving. And once those two got talking not much cold make them stop. They could spend hours chit-chatting happily. 

He stood up quickly, and carefully darted around the haphazard piles of files in his office floor. _His bag,_ he thought, _where did he leave his-there!_ Carefully tucked in a corner. Jon carefully graded it and unzipped it, just to be sure. 

Everything was in order- the old shirt Jamie has made for him years back, the jeans on which Georgie had painted little pink, yellow and blue flower. Underneath those was his favorite jacket- not that he needed it. It did have his pins though, so he would put up with the heat. They where _his clothes_ , they were his in a way not much really was. 

Jon debated for a moment- put them on here and risk any fellow workaholics noticing, or leave and put them once he got to the parade. Eventually he darted to the bathroom and carefully changed. He looked... good. He looked good. Everything still fit and even though it wasn’t the professional clothes he normally wore it was still _Jonathan Sims_ looking back at him from the mirror. Jon smiles at himself in the mirror- he was excited.

\---

Pride was as loud as it always was. Cheers and shouts filled the air, flags of every color for every person. It was overwhelming, in the good way. The shear excitement and joy around him slowly seeped into his bones. Chasing away the fatigue and stress. So what if he was here by himself? 

Georgie was be miles away (not literally, in fact she might be here at this very same parade). Tim had plans to go out tonight and wouldn’t be coming. (He had once told Jon, only slightly drunk, that he didn’t do Pride anymore. Not without his brother. Once upon a time they would paint their faces together. Tim with his the bi pride and Danny in his own pale pinks, blues and whites.) 

The missing people didn’t matter so much when there were so many around him in so many colors. These were his people, whether or not he was there's. No matter what flag they wore they were still his people. 

He saw few wearing colors that matched his own, and few wearing clothes that matched Georgie. A tall man wearing an ace flag as a cape, a pair of younger couple with a child in between them, both sporting demiromantic shirts, a woman his age wearing an aro colored skirt and matching headband that pulled back her puffy- _wait._

Wait. He knew that hair, he had worked with that hair for years (he had stolen that hair’s promotion). Sasha, Now that he looked, yes. That was Sasha, walking not ten feet from Jon and animatedly chatting with the tall man in the ace flag. 

_Oh._ Jon’s brain stopped. Sasha here at Pride. (Somewhere in his chest Jon’s else his heart cried out. These were not just faces but people he knew, and judging by her skirt, someone who could and would understand him). 

He should talk to her. Say something. Anything. 

Unfortunately his mind was a black sheet of confused static. What on earth does one say to their coworker from whom they’d accidentally stolen a promotion and then seen at a Pride parade? 

“Oh hey Jon, good to see you!” That apparently. Or so it would seem, judging by the fact that that voice definitely belonged to Sasha. Jon turns his head just to check. Yes, that face definitely belongs to Sasha too.

“Ah.. he-” _breath Jon. Take a deep breath,_ Georgie’s voice in the back of his mind whispers. “Hello, Sasha, I... ah, didn’t expect to see you here.” God she’s smiling, she’s happy to see him. God. 

“Well”, she had a look on her face, god what’s was it? What does it mean? “I’m glad to se you,” at this she leans over to gently tap their shoulder together. “I know things have been tense lately, but I'm glad to see you here. I’ve seen your ring but I didn’t want to bring it up. And Tim said the parades aren’t really your scene, so I’m a little surprised.” Sasha says. 

“They aren’t normally” Jon says “but Pride...means a lot too me and, and these parades, they make me feel connected.”

At that Sasha’s smile lights up, almost blinding him. “Me too, I feel like...”

“Part of a community” Jon’s suggests quietly. It’s why he comes here. Despite the noise and the people. It’s a connection to their community. Sasha beams at him, if her smile before had been blinding this one is like looking into the sun. 

“Exactly!” She says, smile evident in her voice. Then she’s offering him her arm. “Come on, lets go connect with our community!”

Jon finds himself smiling, he’s missed this.

\--- 

Nothing at work chances, per say. But the tension bleeds away. Sasha hangs a little aro flag off the side of her desk. In solidarity, Jon hangs an ace one of his. When Sasha bullies Martin into letting Tim paint his nails, Jon smiles along with them. He then concedes to his own nails being painted. Martin bring in pride mugs, heaven knows from where. 

It’s nice. The connection, it’s nice.

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I've never actually been to a Pride parade? (someday, someday I swear. )
> 
> Jon being Ace means a lot to me, the TMA fandom encouraging the creation of so much ace content means just as much. When I first saw this week i almost burst into tears- this means a lot to me. 
> 
> If you see a spelling/grammar error just tell me.


End file.
